


Kitchen Therapy

by DistractionReaction



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Maybe plot if you squint, Plot What Plot, head canons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2650118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractionReaction/pseuds/DistractionReaction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late season loss has Jack feeling down. </p><p>Nothing a little one on one time with his favorite Samwell sophomore can't fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitchen Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Brain: alright, finals around the corner, substantive papers due, let's hit the books  
> Me: instructions unclear, accidentally wrote 5k+ words of porn
> 
> Gotta admit I was so hesitant to write an E rated fic for this series. I mean these are someone else's brain babies and LOOK WHAT I DID TO THEM. Good lord. Plus I should be writing papers, like the ones worth 100% of my mark, or outlining for the exams that are less than two weeks away. Ah well. 
> 
> Check, Please! and all of the fabulous characters you see here belong to Ngozi (read her webcomic from the beginning here: http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/57705111693). 
> 
> Warnings for Self (and possibly sloppy) Beta. 
> 
> Please let me know if you see any errors! I proofed things in a rush. Hope you enjoy!

January comes in a familiar, bitter cold. The chill is so sharp that even through the thick leather of his winter gloves Jack’s hands are starting to numb. He’s been keeping them buried in his pockets, curled tightly into fists, until the hard buzz of his phone forces them out from their warm enclosure. 

He’s knows who it is even before the phone presses to his ear and he flicks his gaze up, searching out Shitty’s frame in the Haus’ top floor windows. 

“Sup.” 

“ _Man I could ask you the same thing._ ” Shitty’s peering down at him from Jack’s room and he can almost see his brows furrow. “ _Bro, I love you and I respect your privacy, but you’ve been standing outside for the last fifteen minutes, and yeah, that’s startin’ to worry me._ ” 

“Has it been that long?” Jack frowns, subconsciously flicking his gaze to the sky. It’s barely past four but it’s damned near dark out already. “Sorry man, guess I got lost in thought.” 

“ _Okay, crazy idea._ ” Shitty presses himself further against the glass and even from where he’s standing Jack can already tell there’s a forehead smudge on the pane. “ _How’s about you come inside and brood about last night’s game, instead of freezin’ your ass off outside, hm?_ ” 

“I’m not brooding.” He objects, out of habit more than anything else. Even to his own ears it sounds unconvincing.

“ _Uh, yeah man…this whole thing right here? Definitely brooding._ ” Shits steps back from the window and disappears deeper into Jack’s room. “ _You’ve been gone since the a.m. dude. We’re all worried about ya._ ” 

“I’m fine.” Even knowing no one can see him he shrugs his shoulders defensively, face screwing up into a scowl. “Just doing some thinking about last night’s game.” 

“ _Oh man, I never coulda guessed_.” He can practically hear the way that Shitty’s rolling his eyes. “ _Seriously man, you just gotta get over this guilt complex of yours. Not responsible for carryin’ all of us, y’know?_ ” 

“I’m the captain.” He points out, tone flat. 

“ _An’ our best player, by far, but they don’t call hockey a **team** sport for nothin’._ ” Shitty lets out a sigh from somewhere in the house and Jack can hear him shuffling, moving about. “ _You gotta stop beating yourself up all the time man. Shit ain’t healthy._ ” 

“I’m aware. Doesn’t make the loss any easier.” Jack rakes a gloved hand over his chin and turns his face to the sky, watching the fat snowflakes drift down towards him. “I keep trying to get better at this, to be less bothered by it…but I just don’t know what to do with all this-” He struggles for the word, barely biting back a growl, “ _frustration._ ”

“ _I know what you can do._ ” Shitty states a-matter-o-factly, and suddenly there’s a noise at Jack’s front, the door swinging open to reveal his best friend’s not so impressed face. “You can stop being such a dork and come inside.” 

“Alright, alright.” Jack hangs up the phone, sliding it into his pocket and forcing himself to trudge his way up the front steps. 

“Thank you.” Shitty groans out, pulling the door shut behind him with a hearty click. He reaches out and makes a grasping motion, raising his brows significantly. 

Jack stares at him blankly before he clues in and shrugs off his jacket. Dropping it into Shitty’s hands he peels off his gloves and scarf, handing them over when prompted. 

“Right then.” Shitty claps his hands and snags his own jacket from the closet, shrugging it over his shoulders. “I’ll catcha later.” 

“You’re leaving?” Jack flashes him an incredulous look, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Look dude, Bitty’s been worrying himself sick over you all day.” He drags a hand through his flow, eyes trailing past Jack’s shoulder and down the hall. “He’s been stress baking since eleven. There’re four batches of cookies an’ a tray of pecan tarts on the counter already, an’ I swear I just saw him put a full pie in the oven ‘bout an hour ago.” 

“ _Oh_.” Jack manages, his heart twinging at the idea of Eric puttering around the kitchen, fretting over his absent captain. He clears his throat, flicking his gaze off to the side. “I don’t see what that has to do with-”

“You wanna keep pretending, m’not gonna stop you.” Shitty rolls his eyes, dragging a hat on over his flow and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his light jacket. “In the meantime I’ll be at Lardo’s, an’ you don’t have to worry about Ransom and Hoster, I already told ‘em to hole up in the library for the evenin’.” 

Jack’s determined not to blush, but he’s doing a poor job of stopping himself. He scratches at the back of his head and forces himself to meet Shitty’s knowing gaze. “Right, well-”

“No it’s cool, I can keep playing dumb.” Shitty backs up towards the door, tugging it open. “Just do me a solid? Let Bitz know you’re alright, and work out some of that… _frustration_ while you’re at it.” 

“ _Shitty_!” Jack splutters, incredulous. 

“Too late it’s out there! Can’t take it back.” Shitty slips out onto the porch and offers him a half salute. “I’ll tell Lardo you say hi.” 

“Right.” He chokes out, squeezing a hand over his burning cheeks. Reaching out he tugs the door shut behind his friend and turns to slide his back up against the hard wooden surface. 

That’s… _a development_. 

He drags his palm up to press down over his forehead. He and Bitty have been careful, or at least so he’d thought. Apparently they weren’t as subtle as they’d originally intended. 

Not that it really mattered if Shitty knew. They were thicker than thieves. There was no one he trusted more. It would be a cold day in hell before Shitty did anything to hurt him, or Eric for that matter. 

Speaking of- 

Jack pushes off the door and moves down the hall, rubbing his still warming hands together tightly. A heavy, sweet smell wafts out towards him, leaking out of the kitchen towards him. 

He edges around the corner into the brightly lit room, and it takes no time to spot him; Eric’s bent over the sink, up to his elbows in dish soap. There’s a pile of clean baking ware at his elbow and a stack of fresh cookies on the far side of the counter…chocolate chips by the look of it. Shitty wasn’t exaggerating about the sheer amount of them, or the line of tension across Eric’s shoulders. 

“You trying to feed an army?” He asks, dropping his shoulder against the doorframe and leaning there, arms folded. 

“ _Jack!_ ” Eric starts violently and drops the pan he’s scrubbing at. He pauses long enough to curse, wiping at the bubbles that splashed up his front, before he turns towards Jack. “I didn’t know you were home.” 

Bittle’s smile is somewhat nervous and Jack can’t help but feel guilty; but there’s still no shaking the hard burn of agitation that’s been welling in him all day. “Just got in.” He manages, fighting back the bite in his tone and quirking his lips up in return. “I see you’ve been busy.” 

“Er, yeah I suppose.” Eric scrambles for a dish towel, wiping down his soaked forearms and ducking his head sheepishly. “I guess I went a bit overboard?” 

“A bit eh?” Jack’s trying to keep his tone light, teasing, but his nerves are still on edge and his hands are twitching where they’re crossed over his sternum. 

“Yeah.” Eric shrugs with a nervous laugh, biting his lip and edging closer to the captain. His motions are careful and slow, as if Jack might spook at any moment. And really, Eric’s not wrong. He feels wrung out and agitated, like he can’t settle in his own skin. He’s filled with so much nervous energy he’s worried he might actually burst. “What were you up to today?” 

“Nothing much.” Jack shrugs and finally pushes off the door frame. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and starts when his fingers brush against the sharp foil of a condom wrapper. He tries to play it casual, but a sudden image flashes through his mind (grabbing Eric’s waist and pinning him up against the fridge, taking pleasure in the scattered clink of magnets, toppling to the ground…) and he swallows hard. At least now he knows what’s itching under his skin, a slight flicker of arousal sliding in through his agitation. Shitty’s word rings through his mind and he bites his lip. “Just needed some time to think.” 

“Ah.” Eric seems to hesitate before he steps right up to Jack, tossing the towel to the counter at his side. “’Bout the game?” 

“Yeah.” Jack scratches his jaw and shrugs, coming to a stop at Bittle’s chest and giving the blonde an evaluative once over. There’s a smudge of flour across his cheek, his apron stained and hair slightly mussed. It’s a sight he sees in the kitchen often enough, but it never ceases to be endearing. He shrugs, trying to focus on Eric instead of the nagging memory of the evening before. “Not an easy loss to swallow.” 

“We’re having a great year.” Eric tries, fiddling with the hem of his apron, glancing up at Jack through his lashes. “One bad game isn’t enough to-”

“It’s too late in the season for rookie mistakes.” He snaps out, before he clenches his teeth shut tight. “I’m better than that-”

“It’s not your fault.” Eric protests, reaching out to clasp his fingers over Jack’s biceps. He smooths over the fabric of Jack’s long sleeved muscle shirt, the motion comforting. “You need to stop beating yourself up about this sort of thing.” 

“I’m trying, but-” Jack grouses and leans closer despite himself, framing his hands over Eric’s hips, “I don’t know. Easier said than done.” 

“That’s true.” Eric hovers a few inches from Jack’s front. From the way that Bittle glances between them it’s easy to tell that he’s concerned about the mess on his apron. Adorable is the only word for it, and Jack relaxes despite himself. “This isn’t something you should have to work through alone.”

“Are you offering to help?” Jack murmurs, licking his lips. 

“I can, if you want.” Eric lights up at that, tightening his grip slightly. “I mean, for starters you could talk to me?” 

“You mean instead of running away?” He snorts. 

“I didn’t say that.” Bittle’s cheeks puff out and it’s positively endearing. “I just worry about you, when you go off alone…I wish you wouldn’t shoulder the blame all by yourself. I’m on your side y’know.” 

“I know.” Jack pulls Eric closer despite the mess on his front, leaning down to press their brows together. Bittle’s breathe hitches in his chest and it sends a warm spike of heat straight through to his gut. “You’re always on my side, even when I don’t deserve it.” 

“Maybe not always.” Bitty teases with a puffing laugh. “You should see my early Samwell blog posts.” 

“I would, but _someone_ refuses to _share_.” 

Jack leans in for a kiss but Eric ducks away, eyeing the doorway cautiously. 

“Wait, Shitty-”

“Just left.” Jack assures him, dragging a hand up to catch Bitty’s jaw. 

This time when he leans down Eric doesn’t resist, just gasps out slightly and lets himself be drawn in for a firm, open mouthed kiss. 

Already Jack can feel the tension easing out of his shoulders, his other hand sliding around to the small of Eric’s back. He drags the smaller man impossibly close, licking into his open mouth in smooth, firm strokes. 

They haven’t had much time alone in the last few days. What with practice and the game they’ve been trying to keep their priorities in check (‘ _whatever good that did_ , he reminds himself, bitterly). Shoving those thoughts away he catches Eric’s tongue, releasing it with a slow, firm drag of his teeth. 

The noise Bitty makes is positively pornographic, his body arching forward into Jack’s larger frame. He growls, drags his hand up through Eric’s hair and tugs. 

Then without warning a loud beeping sounds throughout the room, Bittle pulling back sharply from Jack’s grip and dashing over towards the oven. “The pie!” 

“Eric,” Jack groans, disbelieving, “ _seriously_.” 

“Hey, allowing pie to burn is a cardinal sin.” The blond protests, already scrambling for his oven mitts and gingerly easing open the oven door. “Besides, this is for someone special.” 

“Got something to tell me Bittle?” 

“For you, you _dork_.” Eric chuckles and grasps the hot pie plate, toeing the oven door up and shut. Jack watches while he gives the pie an experimental shake. “Thought I’d try my hand at traditional Québec sugar pie. You’ll be the first to taste it. An Eric Bittle special.” 

“Just for me eh?” Jack draws himself closer and wraps his arms around Eric’s waist, pulling him flush against his front. 

“ _Oh._ ” Bitty starts and scrambles to keep his grip on the pie before setting it off to the side to cool. “Careful. It might be for you, but I put a lot of work into it.” 

“I can tell.” He hums at Bittle’s ear, dragging his mouth down to nip at the junction of his throat. He winces when he catches a hint of flour under his tongue. “You taste like baking supplies.” 

“Well _have_ been in the kitchen all day.” Eric shoots back, reaching down to fold his palms over the back of Jack’s hands. He then glances down at himself, the motion almost an afterthought. “Actually, now that you mention it I could use a shower. I’m _filthy_.” 

“Just the way I like you.” Jack growls and drags Eric further back against him, grinding lightly. There’s a heat pooling in his gut, and by the choked, desperate noise Bittle lets out, he isn’t alone. 

“That’s so cheesy Jack.” Eric manages through a breathless gasp. He shifts in his grip and stares up at him, cheeks flushed. 

“You loved it, don’t lie.” Jack drawls and starts to walk backwards. 

“Wait, wait the oven, the oven.” Eric turns slightly but doesn’t draw completely out of Jack’s grasp. Instead he strains up on his tippy toes, leaning over until his scrabbling fingers catch the oven controls. 

“What, don’t want to burn the haus down?” He teases, tightening his grip on Eric’s waist when he turns back to him. 

“Not if I can help it.” Eric laughs and Jack spins them around, backing them up. 

“Always the responsible one.” He keeps walking until the backs of Bitty’s legs hit the table. “Feel like doing something reckless for a change?” 

“You don’t mean-” Bittle lets out a hard gasp when Jack reaches behind him, shoving aside the cookbooks strewn across the table’s surface. A few stray utensils clatter to the floor. When he finds his voice again it’s thick and quiet. “Jack we _eat_ here.” 

“I promise you,” Jack reaches down, hands cupping Eric’s ass and hauling him up, depositing him on the edge of the table, “this isn’t the worst thing to happen in this kitchen.” 

“God,” Eric protest is weak at best, coming out in a strained groan, “you’re just feeding my paranoia here Jack-”

“We’ll clean.” He interrupts, leaning down to catch Eric’s lips in a chaste kiss. He mouths down across the blond’s jaw, moving to his throat and biting down, _hard_. “Make the place _sparkle_.” 

“Oh, _oh_.” Eric’s leg is hooking around Jack’s waist in what seems like an instinct and he drags the senior impossibly close. “I mean Ransom and Holster could be back-”

“Holed up in the library.”

“Shitty! What about Shitty, he-”

“Out until later this evening.” 

“Lube? Protection?” 

“ _Eric_.” Jack uses his grip on the younger man’s ass to drag their groins together, grinding against the rock hard line of Bittle’s cock through his jeans. “Should I tell you what I’m going to do?” 

He rocks his hips forward slowly, a hard spike of pleasure sliding up his spine. Eric jolts at the motion and clutches to Jack’s shoulders, squirming in his hold. “Okay, _okay yeah_.” 

“I’m going to bend you over this table and lick you out until you’re _begging_ for it-” Jack tightens his grip on Eric’s ass when his whole body spasms, thighs tightening subconsciously where they’re braced around his waist, “and when you can’t stand it anymore, I’m going to take the condom from my pocket and we’re going to fuck our way through the obscene amount of _frustration_ that’s been building since last night.” 

“ _Promises, promises_.” Eric makes a breathless noise and his nails bite into the flesh beneath Jack’s muscle shirt. “Are you sure you can deliver?” 

“ _Watch me_.” 

\---

“ _I can’t, I can’t_ -”

Eric’s knees slip out slightly where he’s crouched on the table and Jack shoots a hand out, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of his thigh. He manages to steady the blond, licking deep into his body in firm, hard strokes. 

“Jesus, you weren’t kidding. Jack please, please-”

Eric’s body convulses with hard shudders, his elbows braced against the table and his face buried in his forearms. Jack presses his tongue deeper, relishing in the way Bitty’s breath catches on a moan, cock twitching and heavy between his legs. 

“ _Jack,_ I-”

“Tell me.” Jack places a chaste kiss to the spasming ring of muscles, sliding his fingers back in and nibbling his way up to the base of his spine. “Tell me what you want-”

“I, oh, _oh_ I-” Bittle’s hips jerk into the air when Jack sinks his fingers deeper, pressing at the hard nub of his prostate, motion deliberately slow, “I want you to stop _teasing me_.” 

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.” He laughs, massaging in earnest and relishing in the way that Eric’ bucks back into him, trembling. 

“Jack-” Squirming he scrabbles for purchase against the table, his voice coming out in a low wine, “Jack _please_.” 

“Alright, alright.” Arousal punches deep into his gut and he finally relents, sliding his fingers back out. The winded noise that escapes Eric as he’s left empty, wanting, is beyond satisfying. He brings both hands up to squeeze at the muscle of Bittle’s ass, letting out an appreciative sound. Eric’s not as lean as he is, or as built, but he’s a solid frame of firm muscle and smooth lines; and Jack most definitely approves. “You’re sure you’re ready?” 

“Yes I’m sure,” Eric’s body tilts forward and he collapses down on his elbows, panting hard, “Please, _I want you_.” 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Jack leans forward, pressing one last kiss to the base of Eric’s spine before he grabs at his hips, dragging him back and flipping him over. 

Eric’s a sight to behold, flushed and breathing hard, his teeth worrying violently at his lower lip. Jack takes it all in with a barely suppressed groan, fingers already aiming for the hem of his shirt. He drags it off and folds it twice, reaching down to encourage Bitty to lift his hips. 

“What’re you doin’?” Eric slurs, complying without hesitation. 

“Trying to make this more comfortable for you.” Jack tucks the rolled up fabric beneath his hips, trying not to preen over the hungry gaze that rakes his bare chest. 

“M’not complainin’.” Eric moves to sit up, reaching for his chest. Jack doesn’t let him get far. He grabs his arms and bears down over his prone frame, pinning his hands to his sides against the table. He chokes on a gasp and Jack groans, digging his thumbs into the center of his wrists. 

“God I love your voice.” Bitty’s accent always comes out in full when they’re like this, a heavy drawl that seems to slide off his tongue without permission. Jack can’t get enough of it. “Makes me want to make a wreck out of you-”

“Best take your pants off first.” Eric shoots back, straining against Jack’s grip before sagging back against the table. “Quickly.” 

“Impatient are we?” Jack presses forward just a hair, sliding their lips together in a firm, chaste kiss. He lingers for a moment before pulling back completely, releasing Eric’s hands and stepping back from the table. 

“Y’would be too if I’d just spent the last half hour doing _unspeakable_ things to you on the kitchen counter.”

“Table.” Jack corrects idly, pulling the condom out of his pocket and placing it between his teeth. 

“Y’know what I mean.” Eric groans, his eyes fixed on Jack’s mouth while he worries at his own lower lip. “M’never gonna be able to sit here again without thinkin’ of this.” He swallows, gaze flicking down when the senior starts on the buttons of his jeans, keeping his motions deliberately slow. “Jesus Jack I spend _all_ my free time in here.” 

“What a shame.” Jack says, snatching the condom back out of his mouth once he undoes his jeans, letting them slide down to drop to the ground. Grinning he leans forward and taps Eric’s nose with the foil wrapper. “We could always stop?” 

“Don’t you dare.” Eric practically growls, face scrunching up before Jack draws the condom back, running his free hand along the elastic waist of his boxer shorts. 

“Thought so.” Jack drags the fabric down, stepping one foot up and crowding into Eric’s space once more. The blond lets out a breathless noise of relief, cock twitching where it strains, flushed red, against his belly. 

When Jack opens the condom package with his teeth Eric groans and drops his head back, eyes squeezed shut. “Hurry, hurry, m’done waitin’-”

“I’ve got you.” With a practiced ease Jack rolls the latex over himself, already crowding up in Eric’s space. He grabs at the back of his thighs and drags the smaller man close until his hips hang slightly off the table. Then he shoves his legs back, opening him up and forcing his knees towards his chest. 

Eric scrambles for purchase against the table, palms slipping over smooth wood. “Yes, _thank you_.” 

Jack hooks Eric’s ankles over his shoulder, not quite bending him in half, but opening his body up nicely. Then he drops his hands back down, sliding himself closer. “Deep breath.” 

“I know what I’m doing Jack.” Eric counters, yet the initial push of Jack’s cock seems to startle him none the less. He tenses for a brief moment, body locking the captain out, before he sucks in hard through his nose and bares down. 

Jack shifts to grip at his hips, eyes fluttering shut while he carefully pushes forward. Despite all the prep Eric’s still tight, a vice like grip of heat that slowly opens up around him. Jack’s starting to regret not having lube with him. What little there is on the condom really isn’t enough; but Eric’s still stretched open and slick with saliva, easing the way enough for Jack to press the head of his cock all the way in. 

Eric stiffens slightly, but he seems to know the worst is over. He drops one leg down from where they’re draped over Jack’s shoulders, hooking his ankle around the senior’s back and urging him forward. “C’mon, C’mon, not made of glass here-”

“If you say so-” The last of Jack’s patience frays and he lets his hips jerk forward, sheathing himself in Eric’s tight frame in one, smooth motion. And _oh_ does it feel _good_. 

Below him Bitty’s back is arching off the table. He hisses out a sharp breath, his whole body wracked with tension. 

“Easy, easy.” Jack moves one hand up to grasp at the leg still slung over his shoulder. He tilts his head to kiss Eric’s calf, watching the blond’s face for signs of pain. “Alright?” 

“M’good, just-” Using leverage from the ankle he has pressed to Jack’s back he arches his hips up, sighing when the captain shifts inside of him, sunk deep to the hilt, “ _adjusting_.” 

“Take your time.” Jack chuckles, leaning over until he finds Eric’s lips, pressing a firm kiss to the corner. The position forces one knee up to the blonde’s shoulder, but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “Jesus, I will never get over how _bendy_ you are.” 

That gets a full blown laugh and Jack winces when Eric tightens around him like a vice. “Pretty sure we’ve talked about this. Ex-figureskater.” Bitty reaches up with one hand to cup Jack’s chin and gives him another kiss, grinning. “Flexibility kinda comes with the territory.” 

“Remind me to thank your old skating coach.” Jack’s struggling not to move, breathing hard through his nose. Each tiny shift of Bitty’s body beneath him sends a burning flare of pleasure up his spine. He drops his head down further, sliding out of Eric’s grip to press his face into his shoulder. 

Bitty takes a deep breath, fingers carding through his hair before he swallows and nods against the top of Jack’s head. “Okay, okay I’m good.” 

“Yeah?” Jack tilts his face up to kiss the column of his throat, mouthing his way back up to his chin. 

“Yeah, move. God please move.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Jack pulls himself up from where he’s lying flat against Eric’s front, shifting to grip the sophomore’s hip before he draws out. He keeps the motions slow and easy, trying not to jar the pliant body beneath him. 

Eric sucks in a hard breath, hands scrabbling to brace against Jack’s forearms and his leg pressing hard at his back, trying to urge him forward. “Come on, come on m’not gonna break.” 

With a soft growl Jack shifts up on his toes slightly, trying to get better leverage before he slams his hips forward once more. He sends Eric sliding back against the wood, the whole table groaning in protest. “Like that?” 

“ _Oh_ , oh almost. You’re a little off, maybe-”

Jack slides a hand under the leg that’s wrapped around his waist, dragging it up over his shoulder until both of Bitty’s knees are hooked around the back of his neck. He bears down over Eric’s front, dragging his hips up and changing his angle, driving down hard. 

“ _Ah!_ Yes, yes right there!” 

Eric’s nails are digging crescents into his forearms but Jack can’t bring himself to care. He’s got his hands framing that mop of blond locks, staring down at Bitty’s flushed features while he drives his hips forward, _again, and again, and again_ \- 

“Oh! Jesus Jack it’s so good,” He’s biting down on his lip, words falling out between his clenched teeth, “ _you’re so good_.” 

“This isn’t going to last long if-”Jack’s panting, heart beat pounding in his ears, “if you keep talking like that.” 

“What, thought y’liked it when I talk dir-” The captain takes the moment do pull almost all the way out, driving back in against that _one spot_ with as much force as he can muster. 

Eric shouts, the sound shocked and loud, reverberating through the haus. 

He colours immediately, slamming his hands down over his mouth when Jack does it again, causing his cock to bob violently between them. 

“Don’t hold back.” Jack snags Eric’s wrists, forcing them up over his head and slamming them against the table. He keeps them pinned with one hand, using the other to brace against the table for better leverage. “Who’s going to hear you?” 

“At- at this rate?” Eric whines when Jack pauses, pulled back until only the head of his cock remains inside the blond. “The whole damned neighbourhood.” 

Jack rolls his hips forward, relishing in the piercing gasp that slides out past Eric’s lips, the sophomore straining against the grip on his wrists. “That a challenge?”

“Oh my god no, no-” Eric’s protests are half hearted, his thighs tightening around Jack’s head when the captain pushes up further on his toes. He cries out, his hands clenching and unclenching uselessly above his head and his chest heaving with the effort to breathe. “ _Jack_ -“

Taking pity on the sophomore he leans down to seal their mouths together tightly. He swallows up Eric’s moans, licking into his mouth and picking up the pace. 

Jack’s muscles are straining, pleasure threatening to bubble over. There’s no way he’s going to last like this. Definitely not with the way Eric’s twitching around him, body clamping down in sharp spasms; but he’ll be damned if he’s finishes first. 

Without warning he releases his grip on Bitty’s wrists, reaching between their bodies to take his cock in hand. The blond just about jumps out of his skin, his entire body stiff with tension. He’s twisting on Jack’s cock, fingers shaking when he curls them into the captain’s hair and _tugs_.

“Come on Bittle.” Jack groans and arches his neck, matching his pace with the hard thrusts into Eric’s warm body. The cock in his grip is hot and throbbing, dripping with pre-cum. “ _Come on_.” 

The noises in the room around them are nothing short of obscene: the slick slide of skin against skin, the heavy creaking of the table, groaning beneath them, and Eric’s wet, hiccupping gasps. 

It’s too much. 

Jack’s vision narrows, white flooding across the edges until all he can see is the squirming body beneath him, flushed skin and damp eyes- 

“Jack, Jack Jack-” Bitty’s voice cracks and his gaze seems to glaze over. He releases his grip on Jack’s hair, dragging his hands down to squeeze frantically over the hard cut of his jaw. “Jack I…I’m-”

Then Eric’s whole frame locks up from beneath him, eyes screwed shut and body clamping down over him, _hard_. His cock pulses in Jack’s grip and he finishes, hot and slick over his fist. He pumps Bittle through it, nursing the orgasm and forcing himself to still. 

“No, no don’t stop.” Eric’s breath is still hitching, his body twitching and slick with sweat. He squirms against Jack’s hard cock all the same, trying to spur him on. “ _Keep going._ ” 

The sound of relief that escapes Jack is positively mortifying and his hips move instantly; shallow at first, then deeper, harder. 

Eric clings to his arms, thighs clenching and unclenching over his shoulders, urging him on in soft, breathless gasps. 

Jack can hardly hear him through the rush of blood in his ears. He screws his eyes shut and ducks his head down, bending Bittle completely in half. His mouth finds soft flesh and he bites down, hips stuttering in their rhythm before he finishes with a hitching breath, nerve endings on fire. 

Eric’s body’s still twitching, milking him dry while he clings to the blond, slowly releasing the skin beneath his teeth. He places a soft kiss to the bite mark, apologetic, and buries his face against the Bitty’s bare collar. 

They stay like that for a while, breathing heavily. Eric’s body’s all bent up beneath Jack’s bigger, heavier frame, legs slack around his neck. It takes longer than usual for them to come back to themselves, Jack blinking against the flesh of Bittle’s shoulder.

Finally he draws up to help Eric slowly, carefully, bring his legs down from his shoulders. 

“ _Oof_.” He lets out a noise and stretches his hips, glancing up at Jack with a dreamy sort of smile. “That help with your _frustration_ at all?” 

_Oh_. Jack had completely forgotten about the evening before. He smiles, leaning down and kissing Eric firmly. 

The sophomore hums contentedly into his mouth, bringing his feet up on the table until his knees bracket Jack’s hips. Their mouths move together, lazy and slow. Then Jack finally draws back with an easy sigh. 

“Should I take that as a yes?” Bitty drawls, returning the smile and reaching up to cup the captain’s face affectionately. 

“Yes.” Jack shakes his head, expression impossibly fond. “Thank you Eric.” 

“You’re most welcome.” Bittle stares up at him from where he’s lounging against the table and his expression screws up slightly. “Though as much as I hate to kill the moment, we should probably get cleaned up and dressed before the others get home.” He drops his hand back and lets out a full bodied sigh. “Don’t want to get caught, do we?” 

“Ah, I’m not sure that’s an issue anymore.” Jack manages after a moment, propping himself up over Eric and brushing back his hair with a shy smile. 

“Wait….what?” 

“Easy, it’s not a big deal.” Jack says, words rushing out when he sees the way Bittle freezes. “But I’m pretty sure Shitty knows.” 

“I thought we were being subtle.” Eric groans and brings a hand over his eyes, cheeks burning red. 

“Apparently not subtle enough.” Jack straightens slightly, pulling out with a low hiss from Eric. “I’m not all that surprised, Shitty’s pretty good at figuring this sort of stuff out.” He takes the time to tie off the condom and moves a few steps back to toss it in the nearby garbage can. 

“Jack _no_.” Eric looks scandalized, sitting up with his mouth gaping open. Jack simply chuckles, stepping back and pressing a kiss to the top of the blond’s head. 

“We’ll empty it when we clean.” 

“We’d better.” Bitty chides, shooting him a half-hearted scowl that Jack just has to kiss off his face. 

He settles between Eric’s parted legs, licking into his mouth lazily. 

“You don’t care?” Bitty gasps between the press of their mouths, hands coming up to drape over his shoulders. “That shitty knows?” 

“Mm, by now, probably Ransom and Holster too.” 

“And that’s-” When Jack tries to swallow down his words Bitty pulls back a touch, gazing at him imploringly, “that’s okay with you?” 

“You know what?” He wraps his arms around Eric’s waist, sliding him closer across the edge of the table, the shirt bunching up beneath his thighs. “ _I think it is._ ” 

“Alright then.” He hooks his legs around Jack’s waist, giving his shoulders a comforting squeeze. “I can work with this.” 

“Good.” Jack runs his hands down Bitty’s sides, gazing at him, eyes searching. After a moment he licks his lips and presses their brows together. “Eric?” 

“Yes?” 

He closes his eyes, expression soft. “Thanks for cheering me up.” 

Eric’s laughter is light, like the chiming of a bell. 

“ _Anytime Jack, anytime._ ” 

**END**


End file.
